London Lace, #2

Description:
 Sir Todd takes Eliza to the races. Her heart races as he seduces her amidst the hay in the stalls. Things are going perfectly, and then the nosy photographers and gossip magazine reporters spot the new couple and begin making trouble.
Length:
 14,500 words, or 48 book pages long. 
Spice Level:
Erotic and romantic. This story contains super-hot sex, M/F. For adults, 18+ only.

Eliza stood in the middle of the Millennium Bridge, the Tate Modern on one side and the dome of St Paul’s Cathedral on the other. Todd said he’d meet her at noon, then take her to the races. He a horse running in Surrey this afternoon.

He also had Eliza’s heart running in dizzying circles. 

As she stood above the Thames, Londoners and tourists passing to and fro, she daydreamed about their unexpected and passionate previous night together, which had led to a surprisingly romantic morning, with Todd making her coffee in bed, and then making love to her, slowly, deliciously, languorously. He’d only brought one condom, so Eliza had had to dip into her stash, which added another layer to the future conversation they would eventually have.

But it was still too early for that. This—whatever
this
was—was still too fresh, and yet, they both seemed to be reaching for something deep within each other already, not even twenty-four hours after they first met. She could feel it. But they had to go through the motions, didn’t they? Navigate the superficial to arrive naturally at an earned depth. Eliza felt its inevitability though, a pull coming from deep in her bones, and it scared her.

Perhaps it was better to keep this casual. Why did her heart have to leap so far ahead of her other body parts in these matters? Being a woman maybe she couldn’t help it. But she was determined to enjoy these early moments, no matter what the rest amounted to. They were having fun.
Enjoying
each other. It didn’t need to get more complicated than that.

After morning coffee, plus bonuses, Todd had talked her into driving out to Surrey with him. Since Eliza had already arranged for her assistant, Carmen, to mind the shop, she readily agreed. Her plans had originally been to meet with Stella to shop for silks, but when Eliza explained the strange and romantic turn of events, Stella told her go have fun. So Eliza found herself with an unexpected day off and an unexpected lover to share it with. Todd had gone home to change and arrange a car, and they agreed to meet on the bridge at noon.

This had given Eliza time to bathe again, dress, and enjoy a refreshing walk through the city. It was a mild day for mid-March; spring was definitely in the air, and it was warm enough to get away with only knee-high socks instead of tights.

Her cream, cable-knit socks reached just above the chocolate brown leather boots sheathing her calves, so her skin just above her knees was visible up to the line of her camel-colored, brushed cotton pencil skirt. A cream tunic sweater, fitted, fell just past her hips. A strip of it hung below the hem of her belted Burberry coat. And she wore a hat, of course. An homage to the classic Fedora—popular once again with both men and women—but this one smaller, more feminine, with a fine soft Tweed pattern (an homage to Todd) and a tiny owl feather tucked in its brown band.

Eliza welcomed the walk from Piccadilly to St. Paul’s, it gave her time to clear her head and to stop by Kenzi’s salon.

“Any chance you could squeeze me in?” said Eliza pushing through the front door and into a sea of white orchids—Kenzi’s signature touch.

“Eliza!” said Kenzi coming out from behind the counter where she had been typing madly. Her dark almond-shaped eyes sparkled and her artistically lined lips curved into a wide smile. “It’s been ages, honey!”

“Self-maintenance is not all it’s cracked up to be,” said Eliza as she was swept up into a hug by this petite friend who was so much stronger than her stature suggested.

“What do you need?” said Kenzi stepping back and looking seriously into Eliza’s face. In a flash she seemed to scrutinize her eyebrows, eyelashes, upper lip, and hair roots, none of which Eliza had to deal with cosmetically, yet, but Kenzi was always on the lookout. It was her job. Her art, she called it.

“I wish you’d let me work on your brows. I could get you looking like Garbo.”

Eliza shook her head. “Too thin. Too dramatic. Actually, I need the help a little lower.”

Kenzi raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow then quickly glanced over her shoulder. “The girls are busy. I’ll do you myself. We have one room open and everything’s warmed up and ready to go.”

“Thank you,” said Eliza slipping out of her coat. Kenzi led her toward the back of the salon.

A few minutes later Eliza was spread out on a table in a cozy rose-colored room being pubic-ly examined by Kenzi.

“What can I do for you, honey? Just the edges, landing strip, traditional triangle?”

Eliza thought for a moment. “Take it all off,” she said.

Kenzi looked up and smiled. “Okay. Who is he?”

“How did you know?”

“A handful of women do the full monty just for themselves. More than that try it out once to see what it feels like, for the rest it’s like a new sex toy—and after primary school we’re quite ready to share our toys.” She winked.

As Kenzi stirred the wax and told Eliza which position to take first, Eliza told her a little about Todd. She really had nothing left to hide from Kenzi.

“So this is
very
new. Are you sure you want to bare all just now?”

“It’s more of a whim. I want to surprise him the way he’s surprising me. Plus it kind of feels good.”
Until it starts to grow back
, she thought. Ah well, that would be
then
, this was
now
. “I also have a feeling things are going to move fast with him.”

“From the sounds of it, I agree,” said Kenzi.

The next several minutes, Eliza focused on controlling her pain.

After Kenzi left her to dress, Eliza slid her panties and skirt back on. A tiny bit of wax hadn’t been fully removed and was now stuck to the lace trim of her thong. Under her skirt it tugged just enough to be an uncomfortable distraction. She borrowed another one of Kenzi’s wipes, dusted herself lightly with Tea Tree powder and tucked her panties in her purse.

Eliza left the room and paid by credit card.

“Thanks for fitting me in, Kenzi.”

“My pleasure, honey. It’s always my pleasure to pave the way for more pleasure.” She winked. “Let me know if this lucky fellow appreciates my work. And don’t be such a stranger.”

“I may have more reason not to be. And maybe next time I’ll let you near my eyebrows.”

“You are such a tease, hon.” Kenzi waved her off. “Go have fun. I’ve got more pleasure work to do.”

Hairless and panty-less under her skirt, Eliza walked down the London streets with a secret smile on her lips. Passers-by may have been looking at the hat on her head, but what might they have thought if they knew about her new ‘look’ under her skirt? More importantly, what might Sir Todd think? She wondered if
—  or rather 
when
—she’d have the opportunity to garner his opinion…

It really was a beautiful day—a mackerel sky, the trees tipped with tight buds, an unexpected balminess in the air promising spring was just around the corner. As Eliza joined the flow of pedestrians crossing Millennium Bridge, she thanked her lucky stars once again for getting her out of the working town of Sheffield and into the fashion flow of London. Her application to the London College of Fashion had been a long shot and if Stella hadn’t goaded her into filling out the paperwork, as a dare, and helped her put together a portfolio, Eliza might not have ever left her punk-pathetic charcoal-eye-lined past behind her. Eliza silently thanked Stella, too.

Stopping in the middle of the bridge—she and Todd had agreed to meet ‘halfway’—Eliza gazed down into the brown swirls of the Thames. She parted her legs slightly. There were only a few boats on the water at the moment, and none close to crossing beneath the bridge, but she imagined one coming along, the captain glancing up at the pretty blue sky rippled with white clouds, seeing the steel curves of the bridge rising into view, people in suits striding purposefully back and forth, tourists wandering gape-mouthed staring at the sights, and a pretty woman, in boots and a skirt, looking meditatively down at the river; a real beauty in a feathered hat, her knees bare and the sun bouncing of the water and up the smooth skin of her legs, all the way up to….

Something pressed against Eliza’s backside. Not something,
someone
. She took deep breath, relaxed into this mysterious embrace. Eliza opened her legs a little more, as much as she was able to with her hips pinned between this someone and the bridge railing.

A growling whisper found her ear. “What are you doing?”

“Just getting comfortable,” she whispered back. Her tiny shifts were causing a small, or rather big, reaction directly behind her.

“Do you know how sexy you look leaning against this railing? I’ve had a chubber growing half way across this bridge.” He was kissing the nape of her neck.

“Mmmm…..” He smelled good, too. And then, feeling cheeky, she asked, “This is Todd, isn’t it?” He stopped kissing, stopped pressing into her, for just a second, as he registered her doubt. Until he registered it was false doubt.

Catching on, he said, “Were you expecting someone else?”

She leaned into his continuing kisses without turning around.

“Everything these days has just been so
unexpected
…”

She arched her back slightly, trying to wedge his growing erection between her buttocks through the thin fabric of her skirt. He wasn’t wearing jeans anymore. Whatever trousers he had on were softer, and she could feel his contours straining toward her. She imagined the sheath of silk right next to his skin. Her own skin felt silky smooth, and refreshed, as a river gust blew up her skirt and cooled the heat building there. She was already wet and slippery. She would have to be careful since her panties were out of service. She tried to remember if she’d tossed a package of tissues in her purse. She hoped so. She would need them before the day was out. She would need them in the next five minutes if she didn’t put a stop to this.

He seemed to have the same idea.

“You’ll have to stop your wiggling, Miss Keating, or I’ll have to take you right here on this bridge in front of all of these people.”

The mere thought—the threat—caused her to flush all over. She turned around quickly, stared up into his blue eyes, darkly sexy with arousal.

“You wouldn’t.”

He threw his head back and laughed. “Did I scare you?”

“No,” she insisted. It was ludicrous to think he’d meant it, but for some reason anything he said had her on high alert. He pressed against her belly now, sliding his arms around her waist.

“I
could
lift you up on the edge of this railing, unzip and slide up under your skirt.” He grabbed her left outer thigh as if he meant to wrap it around his waist, but he didn’t lift her leg. He just leaned in close to her cheekbone, so his lips were close to her ear. “I could force myself into you, take my pleasure, as you balance precariously over the Thames, your life in my hands, your body balanced on the tip of my –”